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by levitationist (orphan_account)



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Sports, American Football, Explicit Sex, M/M, Tattoos, slight exhibitionism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-16
Updated: 2015-07-16
Packaged: 2018-04-09 14:47:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4352957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/levitationist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All Chanyeol wants is to take Baekhyun home and keep him safe. (pt. 2 of the permanent collection)</p>
            </blockquote>





	home

**Author's Note:**

> part 1: [ permanent ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4273347)
> 
> Inspired by [x](https://40.media.tumblr.com/021da214b32b6d702afbfab1c73a7639/tumblr_nrfb10wtDd1uvctz4o1_500.jpg) | [x](https://twitter.com/izzi315/status/620554507001303040). 
> 
> bon anniversaire ma chère ♥  
> it's late, but this is for you.

Chanyeol slides off his gloves and tosses them in the trashcan by the door before grabbing a pamphlet from the stack on the counter. He smiles at the couple sporting new matching anchors on their hip bones and hands them the brochure with the title “ _How to care for your new tattoos_ ”. Chanyeol has a strange feeling that they’re going to regret the ink in a couple months, one of them looking for a way to remove it when things go sour. But it’s not his job to tell them.

“Have a good night!” he says politely, ushering them towards the door and flipping the sign on the door to _closed_. He grabs a baby wipe from the counter and tries his best to make the small black stain on his hand disappear. He gives up after a few seconds of scrubbing; the mark doesn’t even look out of place among the designs on his skin.

His phone vibrates quietly against a stack of designs, the top of which is his hand drawn design for Baekhyun. Chanyeol slides the paper out from under his phone, folding it carefully and tucking it into the pocket of his jeans. That design is out of commission, already etched onto both of their collarbones, just above their hearts.

Chanyeol smiles and runs a hand over the bump under his shirt, where the slightly tender skin is covered by a white bandage. Baekhyun had agreed to it the week before in a rare moment of reckless trust. (“Are you sure, Baek?” “I’ve told you a hundred times, Chanyeol, I want it. Just do it, please.”)

Chanyeol flips his phone over and swipes a thumb over the screen showing 9:07 PM.

_you off work? let’s get dinner. my fingers are bruised from that test._

Chanyeol grabs his hoodie from behind the counter and turns off the lights as he reaches for the door. He can imagine Baekhyun hunched over his test with his nose inches from the paper and glasses about to slide off his face, bouncing his leg and scrawling furiously. At first glance, Baekhyun doesn’t seem like a good student--just a jock with ripped jeans, backwards snapbacks and smirks formed over a piece of gum. But Chanyeol is aware how of deceiving appearances are (except Baekhyun does have shitty handwriting. It’s a constant source of amusement for Chanyeol when Baekhyun receives a _i don’t know what this says but it could be good_ comment from an instructor and mourns over the fact that his writing doesn’t look more like Chanyeol’s flowing script).

 _just closed up. have somewhere in mind?_ It’s rare for Baekhyun to have a day off from practice, so Chanyeol takes every chance he can get to start the night early with him.

Chanyeol locks the door behind him and pulls the hoodie over his head. It’s a good amount of chilly outside, making it just the right temperature for a brisk walk. He lingers for a moment at the end of the street, waiting for Baekhyun’s reply.

 _let’s meet next to quintavi’s?_ Chanyeol starts walking before he finishes reading the text. Baekhyun takes every possible opportunity to indulge in oily, cheesy food forbidden to him on practice nights.

 _five minutes_ , Chanyeol taps out. He shoves the phone into his hoodie pocket and jogs down the street.

 

///

 

Chanyeol hears the angry voices before he sees Baekhyun pressed against the brick wall, shrinking imperceptibly into himself. A couple of well built boys stand in front of him and Chanyeol recognizes them as Baekhyun’s older, rough-play-loving teammates.

“—have the right?” Chanyeol catches the end of what one growls into Baekhyun’s face. “Coach is an idiot for making you captain.”

“And listen, scrawny.” The slightly sturdier player leans in towards Baekhyun. “You say shit like that again in front of the team and even your helmet won’t be able to stop me.” Baekhyun is visibly shaking at this point, with clenched fists at his sides.

The other boy, blue shirt, inches closer to Baekhyun and shoves his chest with a meaty finger, right above the new tattoo. Baekhyun winces and glares through his bangs. “Captain or not, scrawny, we’re better than you. You don’t have a chance with a soft stomach like yours,” he hisses.

Chanyeol jumps off the sidewalk and sprints across the street as soon as Baekhyun shoves himself forward. He knows Baekhyun has a fierce heart, but he’s too small to deal any real damage. “ _You_ have no right,” Baekhyun bites out, pushing at blue shirt’s chest. “You skip one more practice or threaten me again, and I’ll make sure your cleats are off the grass for—”

Chanyeol lunges for Baekhyun as blue shirt throws a punch, his fist landing squarely on Baekhyun’s cheek and throwing him against the brick wall with a dull thud of his skull. Chanyeol lets out a semblance of a snarl and wraps an arm around Baekhyun’s waist, pulling him into his chest.

The players look as though they’re ready to throw more punches until they catch a glimpse of Chanyeol’s tattoos winding above the neckline of his hoodie and peeking out from under his hiked up sleeves. “You touch him one more time and you won’t be playing football anymore,” Chanyeol says, trying to keep his voice from quivering. He grips Baekhyun’s trembling shoulder tightlyr and hopes that just this one time, the ink will scare them away.

Chanyeol keeps Baekhyun pressed into his chest until the two boys have shuffled out of the small alley, muttering something about _he tells Coach and I’ll kill him_. He lets out the breath he’d been holding.

Chanyeol has to pry Baekhyun’s hands away from where they’re clutching onto his hoodie. “Baek?” he whispers, bending down to assess the damage eye-level. The left side of Baekhyun’s face is swollen and a stream of blood is running from his nose, already caking on his lips and chin. “Shit, Baek.”

Chanyeol pulls his sleeve over his hand and gently wipes some blood away from his mouth. “Bastards won’t quit about yesterday,” Baekhyun mutters, voice nasal and expression sheepish. “Slacked off at practice and I gave it to them in front of everyone.”

Chanyeol huffs his disapproval but doesn’t say anything, instead opting to turn Baekhyun’s snapback to the front and pull it firmly over his face, hoping the shadow will hide some of the damage. “Come on.” He takes Baekhyun’s wrist and pulls him into the pizzeria.

There’s enough people in the restaurant to lend them a quick escape to the bathroom in the far corner. It’s a one person room with tiled floors and a tiny, scratched up mirror next to the toilet. The toilet has no lid, so Chanyeol grasps Baekhyun’s waist and lifts him onto the counter, letting him lean against the mirror.

“Sorry,” he hears Baekhyun whisper as he locks the door and pulls a few paper towels out of the dispenser. He hands two to Baekhyun to stick in his nose to stop the bleeding.

“About what?” Chanyeol asks, wetting the towels in the sink. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“We’re supposed to have a nice dinner and stuff, but now my face—,” Baekhyun gestures almost frantically at his cheek. “—looks like this and—”

Chanyeol slaps the wet paper over Baekhyun’s mouth and scrubs some of the blood away. “Shut up, diva.” He tosses the murky red towel into the trashcan and wets another. “It doesn’t matter.”

Baekhyun looks like he’s going to argue but bites the inside of his lip instead as Chanyeol runs a light hand over the bruise on his puffy cheek. “You’re okay. That’s good enough,” Chanyeol mumbles.

Baekhyun pushes himself off the mirror and reaches forward with grabby hands like a 5 year old. Chanyeol lips quirk up as he obliges and leans down to let Baekhyun grab his hair and pull his head forward.

Their noses bump and the snapback is knocked into the sink before Baekhyun can find Chanyeol’s lips. The kiss is short, but insistent, and a bitter hint of blood combines with the sweet taste of Baekhyun on Chanyeol’s tongue. Baekhyun takes his time pulling away, sucking on Chanyeol’s lower lip before letting go with a small smack and a string of red-tinged saliva. “Thank you,” he whispers, forehead pressed against Chanyeol’s and hands still tangled in his hair.

Chanyeol just tilts his chin up to peck that annoyingly cute mole on the top of Baekhyun’s lips.

A knock at the door makes Chanyeol pull Baekhyun to the floor and quickly clean up the mess in the sink. “We’re still getting pizza, right?” Baekhyun whispers, pushing his face between Chanyeol’s shoulder blades as Chanyeol scrubs the front of his blood-stained hoodie.

Chanyeol shoves the snapback over Baekhyun’s hair and pulls him out of the bathroom to order a large combo pizza to go.

 

Baekhyun is perched on the edge of the bar stool, humming _La Campanella_ and swinging one leg back and forth. Chanyeol leans over him, holding an ice pack in one hand and dabbing an antiseptic soaked cotton ball on Baekhyun’s cheek with the other.

Baekhyun slides the last piece of crust into his mouth and licks the tips of his fingers, making little pops of noise as his lips pull away. “ _Stop._ ” Chanyeol swats Baekhyun’s hand away and swipes the cotton ball over his cheek.

Baekhyun’s tongue darts out to lick Chanyeol’s wrist in a moment of playfulness, making Chanyeol wrinkle his nose in surprise and toss the cotton ball into the med kit lying open on the counter. “Gross, Baek.”

Baekhyun’s reply is to hook his fingers into the loops of Chanyeol’s jeans and drag him forward so he can wrap his well-muscled legs around Chanyeol’s knees. “Thank you,” Baekhyun repeats for the second time. He doesn’t look for a kiss, instead sliding his arms around Chanyeol’s waist and pressing his uninjured cheek against Chanyeol’s warm chest.

Chanyeol grins and smooths a hand over Baekhyun’s fluffy hair before bending down to plant a kiss where the strands part. “Always,” he responds and Baekhyun’s eyes shut in contentment.

 

///

 

Chanyeol is putting the now cold kimchi spaghetti into a tupperware container when Baekhyun finally responds to his _when are you coming? i cooked._

Chanyeol shoves the box into his almost empty fridge and quickly dries his hand with the dish towel slung over his shoulder. _At the gym_ , is all it says. Baekhyun seems to have something to prove after the run in with his teammates, but Chanyeol is worried that Baekhyun’s enthusiasm will drain away and leave him exhausted.

He frowns and checks the time on the microwave. 10:48, almost two hours since Baekhyun’s practice had ended. Chanyeol sighs and tosses the dish towel onto the counter. He’s done his fair share of studying for the night, so he opens the cabinet above the refrigerator and grabs two protein bars from the box he keeps for Baekhyun.

 

Chanyeol’s breath makes little white puffs as he jogs towards the gym, dressed in a tight cotton shirt and loose sweatpants. A boy from his biology class, Kim Jongdae or something, swipes him in and gives him nod of recognition. Chanyeol returns it with a small smile and grabs the proffered towel before heading to the sectioned-off football room.

Baekhyun is doing sit-ups on the bench with his eyes shut in exertion, rising and falling to the count of whatever new piano piece he’s found this week. A thin layer of sweat covers his face and keeps his hair damp and floppy. He’s dressed in all black: black gym shorts, black trainers, a sleeveless spandex shirt that fits tightly over his chest, and fingerless black gloves. One earbud is shoved firmly in his ear and the other is dangling and catching on the metal support with every repetition.

Chanyeol drops his bag on the floor and bends down to slide the earbud into place. Baekhyun cracks open one eye and grins with a loud exhale. “Hey,” he huffs, lowering himself for another sit up. “Why are you here? It’s late.”

Chanyeol sits heavily on the bench next to Baekhyun. “Exactly,” he retorts and Baekhyun shuts his eyes again. “How much longer are you going to keep this up?” Baekhyun doesn’t answer, so Chanyeol sucks in a breath and lays himself down on the bench.

He reaches into the bag at his side and pulls out the novel he’s been meaning to finish since last weekend. Baekhyun snorts at Chanyeol’s choice of activity and sits up to grab the two weights lying next to him, breathing getting louder as he lays back down and lifts the dumbbells over his head.

Chanyeol ends up reading the same sentence four times before he gives up and glances over at Baekhyun. The new tattoo is peeking over the top of the shirt collar and his skin is shiny and dripping as he grits his teeth for another rep. He lets out a small grunt, lifting his toned arms one more times before dropping the weights.

Chanyeol swallows almost audibly and Baekhyun turns to meet his eyes. He lets his gaze travel over Chanyeol’s long body and smirks at the slight bump in Chanyeol’s pants. Chanyeol hardly thinks this is an appropriate place for that and picks up his book again, hoping Baekhyun will find another exercise to do.

He manages to get to the end of the page and hears the clinking of the dumbbells as Baekhyun puts them back on the shelf. He sighs in relief and moves to get up, but a sudden weight drops onto his hips and he almost drops the book on his face.

Small hands ghost under Chanyeol’s shirt, traveling up his ribs, and then down again. Chanyeol shivers and closes his book with a small thud, turning to drop it on the ground. He looks up to see Baekhyun straddling him and biting his lip, looking almost predatory through his tousled bangs.

“Baek,” he groans, letting his hands grip at Baekhyun’s waist. “Can we not do this here?” Baekhyun bends down and blows a warm, minty breath against Chanyeol’s neck.

“Why not?” he whispers, tongue darting out and swiping a slick line from just below Chanyeol’s ear to where his shirt collar restricts further access. “It’s just Jongdae, he won’t bother us. And this is payback for the locker room.”

Chanyeol’s breath hitches as Baekhyun nibbles on his jaw, hands now resting just over Chanyeol’s nipples. Baekhyun’s bangs brush against Chanyeol’s neck as he bites into the tender skin, quickly soothing it over with his small, pink tongue. His mouth drops open and he considers the way Baekhyun is subtly grinding down on him as persuasion enough.

Chanyeol growls low in his throat and takes one hand off Baekhyun’s hip to firmly grab his sweaty hair. He tilts Baekhyun’s head backwards and latches onto his throat, giving him a matching bruise before roughly biting his pouty lower lip. “Fine,” he hisses as Baekhyun grinds against him again.

Chanyeol tugs the bottom of Baekhyun’s sweat-soaked shirt. “Take it off for me, baby,” he whispers, sitting up on his elbows to watch as Baekhyun slowly peels the fabric away from his skin. The muscles on Baekhyun’s stomach are softly defined and Chanyeol can see them shift and ripple slightly as he hikes the shirt above his shoulders.

Chanyeol reaches out and runs a hand down Baekhyun’s chest and abs, eyes on Baekhyun’s toned arms as he pulls the shirt over his head. Baekhyun groans loudly when Chanyeol reaches his nipples and lightly brushes his thumb over them, back and forth, until they’re rock hard and puckered.

Chanyeol pulls Baekhyun forward, groaning from the friction and attaching his lips to Baekhyun’s chest. He swirls his tongue around a nipple, biting, pinching, licking, while Baekhyun quietly whimpers, eyes shut and cheek pressed against Chanyeol’s hair. Chanyeol runs his tongue over the tattoo, before switching to the other nipple and earning a loud moan from Baekhyun.

“I want to see them,” Baekhyun whispers, sliding his hands under Chanyeol’s shirt to trace the tattoos.

Chanyeol obliges and slips the shirt off, leaving both of them slightly sweaty and groaning as Baekhyun rocks his hips down again. “Ride me,” Chanyeol growls, watching as Baekhyun grins and slides off of him to shove his shorts and boxers away. He’s gone from Chanyeol’s side for a moment to rummage in his gym bag.

Baekhyun’s cock is curved up and straining against his belly—shiny, pink, and dripping with pre-cum—when he comes back, condom gripped tightly in his fist. Chanyeol eyes him hungrily and kicks away the rest of his clothes before Baekhyun climbs over him again.

Chanyeol reaches out and grasps Baekhyun’s cock, admiring the way Baekhyun’s abs go taut with every stroke. Baekhyun’s lips are parted and letting little breathy moans slip out as Chanyeol pulls his hand away to grab Baekhyun’s hips.

“Ride me, baby,” Chanyeol repeats. Baekhyun moans and swipes his fingers over the tip of his cock to cover them in pre-cum. He lifts himself from Chanyeol’s thigh and reaches down to slide one slick finger into his already fluttering hole.

Chanyeol grasps his own cock and gives it a few pumps as he watches Baekhyun add another finger, scissoring and biting his abused, bright pink lips to keep the obscene words from tumbling out of his mouth. His cock is twitching against his stomach and Baekhyun has to dig the nails of his free hand into Chanyeol’s side to keep himself from roughly tugging at it.

Chanyeol lets Baekhyun pump his fingers a few more times and then grabs him, seating him on his thighs so their cocks slide together. Baekhyun moans loudly and bucks, letting his head drop back. Chanyeol’s cock twitches next to Baekhyun’s as he rolls the condom onto it.

He lifts Baekhyun up and lets him slowly slide onto his slick cock, letting out a strangled moan at the heat and tightness. Baekhyun waits a moment before lifting himself up and down, faster and faster until Chanyeol is bucking his hips to meet him. Baekhyun is clenching above him and whispering incoherent words into the air with his neck bared and head thrown back.

Chanyeol tightens his grip on Baekhyun’s hips as he begins to tremble, his cock untouched and still straining against his stomach. His hands are on either side of Chanyeol, arms trembling and threatening to buckle. He lets out short moans along with the obscene slaps that fill the small room.

Chanyeol catches a glimpse of Baekhyun’s ass in the mirror behind them, bouncing as Chanyeol’s cock slides into him repeatedly. That’s all it takes for Chanyeol to slam up, orgasm ripping through him. “ _Baekhyun,_ ” he moans, bucking again as he spurts his cum into the condom. Baekhyun let’s out a whine at the feeling of Chanyeol pulsing inside him, but he still hasn’t laid a finger on his own cock. He’s shaking and moaning _please_ in desperation.

Chanyeol sinks back onto the bench and grasps Baekhyun’s cock tightly, stroking it rapidly until Baekhyun’s cum paints white marks onto his inky black tattoos. Chanyeol watches Baekhyun’s muscles go taut and then relax with each spurt as he gasps out Chanyeol’s name.

Baekhyun collapses, boneless, onto Chanyeol’s chest, oblivious to the stickiness between them. Chanyeol lifts him slightly, suppressing a shiver as his cock slides out, slick and heavy. He presses a kiss to Baekhyun’s temple and cradles him to his chest for a moment.

“Let’s go home,” he whispers.

Baekhyun nods drowsily and brushes his lips against Chanyeol’s newest tattoo, _his_ tattoo. “Yeah, home.”

**Author's Note:**

> Not at all happy with the way this turned out, but I hope you enjoy. Seemed a waste not to post it.
> 
> Thank you always to P and T, my personal cheerleaders. And D, thank you for putting up with my shit ;-;


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